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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25615138">The Inevitable</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/eloc1N/pseuds/eloc1N'>eloc1N</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Miraculous Ladybug</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Akuma Possession, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Badass Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Canon-Typical Violence, Chloé Bourgeois Redemption, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fights, Gen, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Relationships, Kwami &amp; Miraculous Lore, Kwamis Are Gods, Memory Loss, Mild Blood, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Minor Injuries, Minor Referenced Violence, Minor Violence, Original Kwamis, Redemption, Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 08:14:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>17,636</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25615138</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/eloc1N/pseuds/eloc1N</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>As soon as Master Fu had transferred guardianship to Marinette, he had doomed her to the inevitability of one day losing her memory. No one had expected it to happen so soon.<br/>________________<br/>A multi-chapter work exploring revoking the title of guardian, what it takes to be a hero, and wondering what that rumored ultimate power would be like.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir &amp; Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>97</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>184</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. It Was Always Going to Happen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A girl wakes up without her memory--luckily an alley cat can give her some answers.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>First attempt at any real angst, and also my first fic for Miraculous Ladybug! I'll do fluffy stuff in the future to make up for it.</p>
<p>Thank you for reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The lights were so bright, <em>too bright</em>. Even through her eyelids it pierced into her brain and sent pain screaming through her skull. She groaned, and slowly pulled an arm up to cover her face. The pain radiating in her temples and at her forehead faded ever so slightly, but the brunt of it remained.</p><p>After a few minutes of suffering, she decided to peek out past her hand. She slowly moved her fingers and peeled open her eyes. The first rays of light were agonizing, but the pain ebbed away as she adjusted. After some time, she managed to get both her eyes open enough to see where she was.</p><p>The room was full of sterile, white light. Everything was pale, pale, <em>pale</em>. The walls were beige, with a band of cheap wood circling the room in the middle. Soft beeping made her turn her head to see a series of monitors. The beat of it confused her, until she realized it matched the steady thump in her own chest. She reached to touch her chest, interrupted by a sharp pain at the movement.</p><p>Gritting her teeth, the girl looked down—and gasped. The thin gown covering her hid her chest and further down, but couldn’t hide her arms. They were covered in large, dark, angry bruises. Her right arm was thoroughly bandaged, but peeking under parts of it let her know they were covering a gash that started near her wrist and traveled up past her elbow. That seemed to be the worst wound on her arms, as the rest were scrapes. <em>Still</em>, she thought as she eyed the stitches in the gash, <em>there must have been a lot of blood loss</em>.</p><p>She lifted an aching arm to peek down her gown and froze. Her entire upper chest was crisscrossed in bandages. In some spots, red stains peeked through. The pain she felt at elevating herself slightly was from possibly broken ribs. She gingerly settled herself back down onto the uncomfortable bed, closed her eyes, and just <em>thought</em>. What could cause something like this? The last thing she could remember was—</p><p>Her eyes snapped open, pupils shrinking in shock and panic. She couldn’t remember <em>anything</em>. She can’t remember the last thing she did, or the thing before that, or her own <em>name</em>. Her hands gripped the gown at her chest, heartrate spiking uncontrollably.</p><p>This must have alerted someone, because moments later a nurse came running in. She paused at the sight of a young girl freaking out, then quickly came over.</p><p>“Are you okay, Marinette?” The nurse rested a hand on the girl’s shoulder, trying to settle her down a bit.</p><p>“M-Marinette? Is—is that my name?” The girl—Marinette—spoke quietly, chest still pounding.</p><p>The attendant stopped all movement, eyes flashing back from glancing at the monitors near her. Her next words were spoken slowly and with slight apprehension. “Are you experiencing memory loss?”</p><p>“Y-Yes, I think so. Where am I? What happened?”</p><p>The nurse hesitated, then grabbed the charts resting at the table near Marinette. She flipped through them while answering, searching for something specific. “Well, you’re at Clinique Internationale du Parc Monceau—you were brought here by a, uh,” She glanced towards the door leading to the hall, “unnamed individual.” Her caretaker finally settled on a section in the charts, and her face skewed. “That’s what I thought.” She murmured.</p><p>“What is it?” The injured girl sat up a bit, wanting to see what the papers said. Her nurse patted her shoulder again, telling her to stay down.</p><p>“It’s just that—you didn’t receive any head or brain damage.” She explained to the poor girl, who only cocked her head slightly in confusion.</p><p>“Are you sure? I can’t…. I can’t remember <em>anything</em>.”</p><p>“Absolutely nothing?” The nurse spoke softly. “Can you lean forward and let me see your head? I’m going to press down on spots and you tell me if anything is tender.” Marinette nodded and moved to comply. The kind woman spoke as she worked.</p><p>“We already preformed some preliminary tests when you came in. Then after your parents arrived, we were given permission to do more expansive scans.” Her hands softly poked and prodded her scalp, then with no reaction she even checked down the back of her neck.</p><p>She pulled her hands away, dropping them by her sides. “Nothing?” Brows creased in worry, Marinette shook her head no. The nurse sighed, “That’s what I thought. Our scans showed all your other wounds, and there was no damage to your head.”</p><p>“So, what does this mean? Could something else cause complete memory loss?”</p><p>“I suppose a traumatic event could impact your memory—but it usually centers around the traumatic event itself. Not your <em>entire memory</em>.” She placed the chart back down on the table and smoothed out her scrubs. She got up from her place by the bed and began to walk out. “For now, you should just rest, okay honey? I’m going to let the doctor know about your current condition.”</p><p>Before she could walk through the doorway, Marinette stopped her. “Wait—are, uh, are my parents here? You mentioned them before.”</p><p>The nurse gripped the handle and smiled at the girl. “I’m sorry, they had to leave about an hour ago. Visiting hours are over. I’m sure they’ll be here in the morning.” She shut the door gently, murmuring a goodnight and flicking the lights off.</p><p>Marinette laid her head back down on the pillow. She sighed and gingerly clasped her hands on her chest. While she may be hurting and groggy, it hadn’t slipped past her that the nurse hadn’t answered one of her questions. “What happened to me?” She whispered into the darkened room.</p><p>“They don’t know.” A voice to her right spoke suddenly, making her jolt, then groan. She turned her head to see who was there only to be confused.</p><p>In the dark of the room, the window provided light—making things grey and hazy. There was a large shadow casted on the ground that hadn’t been there when the nurse shut off the lights, however. She followed the shadow to its source. Perched on the windowsill, allowing the chill of the night in the room, was a man. A very peculiar one—he was covered in black leather-like material. He bore a bell near his throat, two cat ears upon his golden hair, and a tail that actually seemed to be <em>moving</em>. Yes, this was a <strong><em>very</em></strong> strange man indeed.</p><p>His eyes were cast upon the floor, face angled away—but not enough to hide the raw sadness upon his fine features. Neither of them moved, just sitting there in the quiet—listening to the gentle wind weave its way past the costumed man and around the room. Marinette could feel the siren call of sleep, so she moved to prop herself up so she could stay awake and talk.</p><p>Before she could let a pained hiss past her lips, the man quickly darted over to her. He gently held her arm, a wordless request for her to stay still. She ignored it and continued to sit up, huffing when she finally managed to do so. He watched with slitted green eyes.</p><p>She focused fully on him, placing a hand on the leather-clad one still on her. “Who are you? Why are you here?”</p><p>A boyish voice responded, surprising her—not a man, then. Young. “I’m Chat Noir. I’m just…here to see you.” He finished awkwardly. His hand was still on her, just resting.</p><p>Marinette slowly moved his hand off of her, watching as his ears folded back. “I’m sorry, Chat Noir, but do I know you?”</p><p>“Technically everyone does, but—you and I knew each other very well. We were partners up until yesterday.” He whispered, looking down at her blanket-covered lap. Clawed fingers brushed over the fabric on the bed.</p><p>“Partners?” She glanced down at her battered body, then up at his costumed one. “What, in crime? I can’t think of any other reason why I’m so messed up.”</p><p>He chuckled, subconsciously reaching for the bell on his chest. It ringed quietly as he played with it. “No—though I see how you got there. We did the exact opposite.” He leaned forward, smiling. “We’re <em>superheroes</em>, Marinette.”</p><p>She rolled her eyes, swatting his face away. “Superheroes aren’t <em>real</em>, cat boy.”</p><p>“Oh yes they are—and you’re a <em>bug</em>, too. That’s your theme.” Chat Noir gave a wide, playful grin—growing wider when he successfully got a smile out of her.</p><p>“Okay, <em>partner</em>. What happened yesterday, then?”</p><p>He dropped his smile, tail curling around his leg. “We took down a bad guy—he called himself Architect—but after you used your special powers to fix everything up…” His shoulders curled in on himself, making him shrink down a bit. Marinette felt a shot of concern go through her, worming uncomfortably in her chest. “We didn’t know the real bad guy was just waiting for that moment.”</p><p>“He took you down—hard.” Chat Noir reached a hand out, hovering it over her cracked ribs. “His partner, Mayura, kept me away from you. By the time I was done with her, you were at the end of your rope, I guess.”</p><p> “You took off your earrings—the thing that gives you your powers—tossed them to me, and revoked your guardianship from yourself. You gave it to me.” The blonde’s breathing stuttered, and he shut his eyes harshly before covering his face with his palms. Marinette reached out, shocked with the apparent honesty he was presenting her with. The emotions radiating off of him were so raw and powerful that she could feel them herself.</p><p>He looked up at her with watery eyes. “And I don’t know what to <em>do with it, Marinette</em>.”</p><p>“It’s—” The girl hesitated, then reached out to place a hand on his shoulder. “It’s going to be okay, Chat Noir.”</p><p>He wiped the tears from his eyes, giving a breathy chuckle. “It will be.” Straightening up, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, sleek black box. “Tikki said I shouldn’t do this, but here.” He opened one of her hands and placed it in her palm.</p><p>“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, this is the Miraculous of the Ladybug. With this, you’ll possess the power of creation.” When the girl reached to open the box, he stopped her. “Not yet—I’m going to go fight Hawkmoth and Mayura. If I don’t return to you in a few days, you need to open this. Tikki will tell you where I hid the jewelry box, and where I’m going.”</p><p>He got up from the bed, leaving a deeply confused girl. Grip tightening on the box, she looked up at him as he stood over her. “Don’t worry, Marinette. You’ve already been Ladybug once before. You’ll be fine.”</p><p>Hesitant clawed hands reached out to brush through her tangled hair. He slowly leaned down, letting his lips brush against her forehead. “I promise everything is going to be okay.”</p><p>With that, he turned to the window. The tapping of his shoes against the linoleum was quiet, but it rattled in her brain loudly. Before she could say anything else, he hopped through the window, sparing her one last soft look.</p><p>Marinette was alone.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Marinette gets to go home, and takes that as an opportunity to do a little research.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Little longer than chapter one! Mostly because I hadn't originally meant for chapter one to....be a chapter at all, lol.</p><p>To thank those who commented, because I really appreciate those who do, I used your usernames for some commenters in an article Marinette reads while researching things. Let me know if you don't want that and I'll remove them, easy peasy. </p><p>Thank you!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A night of fitful sleep leaves Marinette groggy and tired. Having given up on any real sleep, the soft, hazy light of early morning seeped into her hospital room. She sat on the bed; an arm curled around her aching ribs. The medications they put her on had faded—they probably had expected her to still be asleep at this hour. The stitched-up wound on her arm throbbed.</p><p>Marinette shifted her gaze to look out at that early morning. If she focused hard enough, she could see the faint image of Chat Noir as he left her room. The soft yet sad look was seared into her retinas—the memory of his figure the only thing she could recall in her current state. His eyes haunted her—the implication that he fully expected to fail his task sat heavy in her hands. The sleek, modern black box. She'd had plenty of time while waiting for visiting hours to inspect it further.</p><p>The box was cool to the touch, and shimmered just slightly. It just barely fit in her hand, the edges of the box not touching skin. Running her fingers over the outside had revealed a subtly textured surface, the gentle light hinting at little paw prints across it. She had tried rattling to hear what was inside, but the supposed earrings must be tucked in there snuggly. Not a sound came from inside the box.</p><p>She had contemplated many times the legitimacy of the entire situation. Waking up without a single memory, getting visited by a man in a cat costume claiming to be a superhero and that she had fallen in their line of work. It was farfetched, and him giving her a little box didn’t help—the desire to open it was <em>great</em>. But he wanted her to wait. A few days, he said. How was she supposed to wait that long after such a juicy morsel had been waved in front of her?</p><p>Calloused finger tips ran over the box, teasing the latch that would open it. Hypothetically, if she <em>did</em> open it, then her questions would be answered. If magic earrings were in there, then she would get to know <em>right now</em> that she was some weird superhero. However, Chat Noir had made it seem like it was important that she wait to open the box. Marinette chewed on her bottom lip in thought.</p><p>Fortunately, she wouldn’t have to make a decision at all. The nurse from late last night knocked on the door gently, then poked her head in. “Good morning, Marinette. I’m about to head home, but I wanted to let you know your parents are in the lobby and will be in soon.” Her eyes landed on the box in the girl’s hands, a spark of curiosity lighting them up. “Where did that come from?”</p><p>Marinette’s grip on the box subconsciously tightened at the attention to it. “It’s, uh—someone…dropped it off for me. Last night.” She rushed out the words awkwardly.</p><p>The caretaker looked between her eyes and the box, but seemed to decide to leave it alone. She smiled and closed the door. Marinette quickly turned to tuck the slim box under her pillow, ignoring the aches and pains of her body. Just in time, too—as soon as she turned back to face the door, three people came walking in.</p><p>The first was obviously a nurse—he was younger than the others and wearing…very interestingly patterned scrubs. A short, petite woman was directly behind him, blue tinged hair catching the lights of the fluorescents. A much taller, burly man struggled to fit through the doorway until he popped through suddenly, balancing himself with a hand on the wall. They both stared at her intensely, until they simultaneously began tearing up.</p><p>“Oh, <em>Marinette</em>.” The woman—her mother—walked forward and pulled her into a hug. She slowly gave an awkward hug in return, hesitant through and through. The large man, probably her father, followed suit and wrapped them both up in his thick arms. For a moment she felt panicked and uncomfortable, but the warmth and smell of baked goods quickly settled her. It felt very good, safe. In the back of her mind something wriggled—something she no longer had the words for and couldn’t identify. <em>Déjà vu</em>.</p><p>“What happened to you Marinette?” Her father spoke, his kind voice washing over her.</p><p>The nurse thankfully talked for her, standing behind them. “We’ve been informed that your daughter, Marinette, is experiencing full memory loss. Amnesia.”</p><p>Her parents pulled back at that, still leaving their hands but losing the full body contact. “She doesn’t remember anything?” The broad-shouldered man asked, turning to speak with the nurse.</p><p>The smaller caretaker shifted, slightly nervous in the presence of the older man. He picked up the chart near Marinette’s bed that had since been filled with new notes. “Yes, she didn’t even know her own name when she woke up last night.” He flipped to a page midway, then resumed speaking. “From what we can tell, this is a severe form of retrograde amnesia—unfortunately we can’t explain why it happened.”</p><p>“What do you mean?” The shorter woman spoke, her free hand drifting up to rest on her chest.</p><p>“Well—there are none of the common signs for why this is happening.” He gestured for her parents to sit down in the chairs by the wall. They glanced at her, not eager to be apart, but eventually went and sat down. “From our scans and tests, we can tell there’s been no damage to her brain. She isn’t experiencing lowered oxygen levels either. We even checked to see if she had consumed any alcohol. There’s nothing wrong with her—in fact, she’s in peak shape. Your daughter is one healthy girl.”</p><p>“What about all her other injuries?” Her mother asked softly.</p><p>“None of them would contribute to amnesia, especially to this degree. We’re wondering if maybe the trauma behind whatever event led to her injuries caused this, but…” He trailed off, only being made to speak again by a gesture from her dad. “The amnesia still shouldn’t be this bad.” He finished, frowning.</p><p>Her parents looked at each other for a while, deep in thought. Marinette sat on her bed watching them, one hand under her pillow, palming the box. The nurse let them all sit in silence for a moment, but began talking once more. “Mr. and Mrs. Dupain-Cheng, we would like to keep your daughter here for a few days. We want to have her meet our neurologist, take some tests, perhaps a more in-depth cranial scan just to be safe.” He stood up, placing the charts down once more and brushing off his scrubs. “For now, though, you should speak to Marinette. Please don’t be too frustrated when she can’t recall anything.” The door closed with a quiet click behind him.</p><p>The room was then silent—only disturbed by the sounds of life on the other side of both the door and the glass. Those muffled noises would not dissuade any awkwardness, however, and Marinette gripped the sheets harshly in anxiety. A low <em>ahem</em>kept her from getting lost in any thoughts, and she looked up into the eyes of her father.</p><p>He scratched the back of his neck, eyebrows furrowed. “I guess we have to introduce ourselves.” They both got up and walked over, leaving a healthy distance so as to not overwhelm the poor girl. “My name is Tom, this—” he gestured to the woman next to him “—is Sabine.”</p><p>Sabine waved at her, a small smile gracing her features. “We’re sorry about all of this, Marinette. This must be very difficult for you.” Her hands settled in her lap, gripping her pants subtly. “We’re going to try to be as understanding as possible. If—” she hesitated, pained. “—if you need space at any point, please just let us know. This has to be scary.”</p><p>Tom nodded along, clearly struggling to smile. In that moment, Marinette felt guilt—even though she couldn’t have done anything to fix this. All she saw in front of her were two grieving parents—anguished over a child they could see but not hold. She smoothed out her gown and tried to gather her thoughts for a response.</p><p>“It is scary, if I’m being honest.” She paused for a moment, wondering how to best handle this. “I just—I really don’t remember anything. I’m sorry. I know this is difficult for you too.” Looking up at them, she continued. “I’m trusting you to take good care of me during all of this, though. I…I hope that is enough for now.”</p><p>Sabine and Tom nodded quickly and were about to speak before the nurse poked his head back in. “Our neurologist is here—we would like to speak to both of you about how we plan to proceed.” Her parents got up and headed outside, letting the nurse handle the door behind them. Before he closed the door, he turned and looked at Marinette. With a kind smile, he tried to reassure her.</p><p>“Don’t worry, Marinette. You’ll be home before you know it.”</p><p>__________________________________________</p><p>Tom and Sabine got out of the taxi, waiting just outside it for Marinette. A now fully dressed but still battered girl exited the passenger side, having sat next to the driver—not enough room in the back with her parents. The bakery, her home, stood in front of them: <em>Tom &amp; Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie</em>. Tucked away in her black jacket, the box pressed into her side, just barely grazing her ribs. She ignored the pain.</p><p>“Now, Marinette, the neurologist suggested you try and surround yourself with familiar things, but you still need plenty of rest. To me that sounds like you should spend some time in your room and just relax.” Sabine said, leading her gently into the bakery. The warmth and soothing scent of baked goods and sweets enveloped Marinette, causing her to relax.</p><p>She didn’t get to ogle the sweets for long, as Tom and Sabine quickly ushered her up the stairs. She gritted her teeth at the sharp throbbing it incited, but kept quiet to not worry anyone. Marinette really only got a flash at the quaint living room and kitchen combo before she was pushed into the attic, her bedroom.</p><p>Her first thought: <em>I must really like pink</em>. Luckily the shades of pink were on the more muted side, allowing her to stay away from any headaches. Overall, her room was spacious, well decorated, and full of things that hinted at her life as it was three or four days ago. Her work desk was overflowing with papers—homework, it seemed—and scraps of fabric. The sewing machine still had thread attached to it, and something sitting right under the needle, unfinished. She must have left in a hurry, then.</p><p>Again, she didn’t get to view it all in peace for too long. Her mom guided her to sit down on her laid-back couch, just glancing at the steps that went up to her bed in passing. Marinette gave a small smile; grateful she didn’t have to crawl up those after the stairs she just went up. She sat down with a huff, glad to rest but still aching with each movement.</p><p>“Do you need anything, Marinette?” Sabine fretted over her daughter, bringing over a blanket and draping it over her. She brushed her bangs out of her face, checking her temperature as she went.</p><p>Before she could respond, her father poked his head through the door that led into her room. “I have your painkillers sweetie. You looked a little pained.” The bottle rattled in his hands. Sabine went over and grabbed them, then fished out a water bottle from seemingly nowhere.</p><p>“Here you go dear. Anything else? Are you hungry?” She leaned down, placing a hand on Marinette’s shoulder. Concern filled up her eyes, echoed in Tom’s look behind her at the trap door.</p><p>Marinette patted the hand on her and gave a crooked grin, amused by this after three days of it in the hospital. They really were good people, and in the span where she had to stay and run tests with the neurologist, she had lost most of her awkwardness with the lovely couple. It was clear they cared for her very much.</p><p>“I’m fine—I really just need to rest. I’m going to take my painkillers and then crawl into bed. That’s my whole plan for the day.” She gestured broadly to emphasize her point. Her parents smiled, Sabine giving a kiss to her hairline. They both slowly backed out of the room, and her solitude was finally signaled by the soft click of the door closing.</p><p>Marinette quickly downed two pills, then got up. However, she didn’t head to her bed—she went straight for the computer. Sitting down in the pink swivel chair, she moved to wake the computer.</p><p>The doctors had discovered that although Marinette had lost all of her memories, she retained some basic knowledge of things she would’ve normally interacted with. When given a phone, she knew how to use the apps, take pictures, use the internet. She had understood the point and uses of the monitors around her hospital bed. Reading and writing were of no issue. Brain scans with each task they gave her were positive—and in the end, the neurologist sent her home knowing no more than they did when she first arrived.</p><p>The screensaver of her computer flashed before her, breaking her from her thoughts. She had been expecting something like a general background, perhaps something with a lot of pink based off the room—but instead there was a <em>boy</em>. There was still pink, of course, but these were pink <em>hearts</em>. Wow, four-days-ago Marinette had a massive crush. She flushed, a little embarrassed, and looked away from the screen—only to see more pictures of the boy above and around her desk. Several were on magazines.</p><p>“What is he, a model?” She said, reaching for the magazine closest to her—only to find out, yes. Yes, he was a model. “Little much for someone you don’t know. I doubt Mr. Model here goes to public school.” Even while she muttered, her fingers brushed over his name: <em>Adrien Agreste</em>. Well, she had good taste at least—he was <em>cute</em>.</p><p>Laying that back on the desk, she turned again to the computer. A simple <em>click</em> and she gave a relieved sigh—she didn’t have a password on it. Marinette quickly pulled up her browser and began typing.</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Chat Noir</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Suggestions: Ladybug and Chat Noir</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>              Ladybug and Chat Noir dating</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>              Ladybug and Chat Noir latest fight</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>              Ladybug and Chat Noir identities</em> </strong>
</p><p>She raised her eyebrows at that, recalling the cat boy teasing her about her powers being a bug. Clicking on the first suggestion yielded an overload of information. Pictures of a blue haired girl swinging midair, followed by that same cat from the other night. Articles upon articles of their endeavors—countless videos of them in action. She rubbed at her temples, overwhelmed—this couldn’t be her.</p><p>Clicking on an image of just Ladybug, turned to face and smile at the camera. The girl was on the thin side and clearly young, around her own age. Her hair…looked exactly like Marinette’s. Her <em>eyes</em> looked exactly like Marinette’s. Marinette scrambled to find a mirror in her room, bringing back a small handheld one and placing it next to the image on the screen. A few seconds to copy the smile in the photo and—the same girl looked back at her.</p><p>She sat there in silence for a minute, eyes flicking between her reflection and the superhero. Finally, she smacked the mirror down flat on the table and muttered out: “How did <em>no one</em> figure that out?”</p><p>The thump was enough to get her parent’s attention, and one of them shouted from the living room asking if she was okay. She panicked and responded that she was just getting comfortable. They seemed to buy it, and she went back to the computer. She needed to fact check something.</p><p><strong><em>Ladybug and Chat Noir latest fight</em></strong> seemed the most promising, so she clicked on that suggestion. Pictures of an impossibly large man popped up, looking more like a skyscraper with stiff brick arms than anything. She clicked on the first image, linked to an article by a local blogger—the Lady Blog. The title read: “Ladybug and Chat Noir VS the Architect!”</p><p><em>Well that checks out</em>, she mused, scrolling down to read. The reporter, one Alya Césaire, seemed incredibly excited in her writing and the clips strewn about the article. She remarked on the coolness of the superheroes often, and towards the end talked about something called a Lucky Charm—<em>whatever that wa</em>s. Luckily it had a happy ending, with Ladybug and Chat Noir taking down the Architect and fixing everything. She smiled, a little proud, and scrolled down to see the comments.</p><p><strong><span class="u">BaraKunasaka</span></strong><strong>:</strong> <em>Wow, they were really in sync! So COOL! </em><em>(3 days)</em></p><p><strong><span class="u">Aiyume</span></strong><strong>:</strong> <em>My mom was working right where the akuma first popped up, she says LB and CN saved her! </em><em>(3 days)</em></p><p><strong><span class="u">mayuralover:</span></strong> <em>It’s been a little while since the last akuma attack. Anyone else weirded out? </em><em>(2 hours)</em></p><p><strong><span class="u">magadellamore:</span></strong> <em>We haven’t seen Ladybug or Chat Noir in DAYS! This sucks—where did they go? </em><em>(1 hour)</em></p><p>Marinette frowned at the last comments. People were starting to think something was wrong, but they weren’t talking about her getting hurt. That meant she got her wounds probably well after the fight with the Architect, likely in a different location as well. More than that—she knew Chat Noir should still be out there, but people hadn’t seen him either.</p><p>She looked through several more articles on other sites and came to the same conclusion. Chat Noir went off, <em>alone</em>, to go fight the person who did this to her—and no one but her even <em>knew</em>. Before she could even think about it, she reached into her jacket and pulled out the box.</p><p>It sat in her hand, gaining a new weight with its sudden importance. Inside this box was something much more real than she had anticipated. Marinette quickly got up and scrambled up the steps to her bed, hoping for more privacy there. Her heart rate picked up despite settling into her comfortable bed.</p><p>Slowly, she reached out and popped open the latch with a loud <strong><em>clack</em></strong>. Grabbing the top, she threw it open, then shut her eyes against the bright, sudden light.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading! </p><p>Please let me know if there are any typos—I’ve had a horrible headache these past few days so I’m not at 100% while writing lol.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Who Else but Me?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Our young Parisian gets to meet Tikki all over again, but this time the Kwami isn't as optimistic as the first time they met.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I have finally written out the full outline for this fanfic! So it will be eight chapters, with some action, reveals, romance. It'll have the works, truly. I hope it comes out okay, I've never written this before.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The light faded almost as quickly as it arrived, and Marinette reopened her eyes—not wanting to miss a second. In front of her, with its own eyes shut, was a small, red—bug? <em>Mouse?</em> <strong><em>Bug-mouse? </em></strong>It was truly tiny, with cute, petite features, a large black spot in the middle of its forehead as well as its cheeks, and two antennae drooping off of its adorable little head. As the creature stirred, a small, three-pronged tail twitched behind it.</p><p>It opened its eyes—two deep blue gems staring right at her, unfocused. It’s gaze immediately sharpened at the sight of Marinette, and they both gasped. The little blob-thing smiled excitedly, lurching forward towards the girl, but then halted just as soon as it started.</p><p>“You—you don’t remember me, do you, Marinette?” It—she—spoke, voice a soft, high note. Marinette nodded, lips thinning in a frown. Tikki sighed and looked around the bed.</p><p>Evidently, she didn’t find what she wanted, because she quickly phased down through it to look through her room. Surprised, the blue haired girl shifted to peer over her bed, scraped fingers grasping the edge of the mattress. Just as her head popped over, Tikki shot in front of her face.</p><p>“Ahh!” She yelped, falling back with a thud. With a cringe, she sat still to see if her parents would say anything. Tikki flew over to follow her, both of them listening to the sounds of TV being watched below them. A tiny sigh from them both had them relax for a moment.</p><p>Not for too long, though. “Marinette, <em>where</em> is Chat Noir?” She shook her little limbs about, panic in her eyes.</p><p>The girl in front of her bit her lip, worrying it between her teeth. She let it go, knowing there was no easy way to say it. “He’s gone, uh—was it <em>Tikki?</em>”</p><p>The bug sighed, drifting down to rest on a pillow. “Yes, my name is Tikki.” She looked up at the girl, large round eyes captivating. “What did he tell you?”</p><p>“Not much, honestly. He actually said <strong><em>you</em></strong> would be filling in the blanks for me.” Pointing a finger at the creature, she gave an awkward smile, trying to lessen the blow of her words. It didn’t work.</p><p>Tikki grabbed her antennae and gave them a harsh yank, shutting her eyes tight. A couple more tugs, and she let them go, smoothing them out. She reopened her eyes and looked fully at Marinette. “If I’m here with you, and he’s missing, then he has to be at the mansion.” Small stubby arms reached to cradle her red head, rubbing her cheeks, “I told him not to do this—it was too risky; we <em>just</em> lost our Ladybug.”</p><p>Her arms dropped, and—looking down—she asked: “How many days has it been since he left?”</p><p>Marinette flinched, looking away. “Three.”</p><p>Silence pervaded the room, suffocating the young girl. She squirmed and wringed her fingers into the sheets. Bruised palms pressed down, the springs digging into the yellowing skin. While it was discomforting, it was also something that had grounded her in the past days—the aches and pains seemed familiar. If she really had been a hero, as it seems she was, the familiarity of pain had an obvious answer as to <em>why</em>.</p><p>She sighed, looking at Tikki. “You haven’t lost her yet—if I have it right, then <strong><em>I’m </em></strong>Ladybug. I’m still here.” Rolling her eyes, she leaned back on one hand, the other gesturing haphazardly in the air. “Though this is all <em>weird</em>, there is something about this that I know for sure is real—” A more serious look settled on her features, nose scrunching just slightly.</p><p>“Chat Noir is out there, alone, and I may be the only one who can help him.”</p><p>Tikki looked away from her, face pulling a taut frown. “It isn’t that easy. You’re a complete blank slate—it’s not just that you’ve lost your experience as Ladybug, it’s also that you’ve lost all your <em>life experiences</em>.” She gestured around, referring to the very room they sat in. Most things couldn’t be seen from the bed, but she could fill in the blanks—her life had been plastered all over. Pictures, projects, schoolwork, toys. “Those are the things that shape your world view and morals—those are the things that made you the perfect candidate to become Ladybug.”</p><p>“Look, I’m sorry, but there aren’t any other candidates for Ladybug, are there?” Marinette pointed out, drawing a cross look from the bug.</p><p>“No…there are not.” She admitted. “But that doesn’t mean it needs to be you—you’ve already paid the price, Marinette. There is no recovering your memory. Not that I know of.”</p><p>“<em>Not that you know of?</em> What does <strong>that </strong>mean?”</p><p>“I—well!” Tikki stammered, clearly flustered. “They—they don’t let Kwamis know much, and…I’ve really only seen masters too old or ailing to serve pass down their title—with the exception of your predecessor.”</p><p>“Well, then that’s it.” Marinette said loudly, emphasizing it with a smack to her knee. “You don’t know—I could get it back. Even if I don’t, what larger price could I pay? I’ve already lost my memory.”</p><p>“There’s no proof you could get it back! Also—the larger price could be <strong><em>dying</em></strong>, Marinette.” She floated back up into the girl’s face, eyeing scrapes as she went up. “I’ve never seen Hawkmoth the way he was the other day! He was full of anger and spite. He didn’t stop until after you fell <em>unconscious, </em>it’s like something in him snapped.”</p><p>Tiny arms weakly reached out, stopping before making contact. “These wounds were made <em>through your suit</em>—do you know how much force it takes to get through that? It’s a <strong>magical barrier</strong>, intended to keep the wearer free from most harm.”</p><p>“The rage you have to feel to do this to someone.” She gazed at each mark; eyes tender. “I don’t want you to have to face that again, Marinette. I care about you too much.”</p><p>The light from the windows around the room had since faded into the evening, washing them in warm orange. Though it was comforting in its own way, it failed to breach the tense atmosphere. A car honked loudly outside; people passed by completely unaware of the monumental conversation occurring just a few stories above them.</p><p>Exhaling, Marinette refocused—letting go of the frustration building up in her. She straightened, and looked at the Kwami head on. “There’s no one else who can do this. I don’t need to remember anything to know that.” She leaned in, causing Tikki to float back a bit. “I don’t need to know him to know that he needs my help. Tikki, you need to tell me where the jewelry box is.”</p><p>The Kwami of creation sagged, closing her eyes to hide the tears threatening to overwhelm her. Marinette meant so much to her, and in this state the girl was at her weakest. How was she supposed to win against someone who, at his age, has full access to the powers of his Miraculous? Marinette didn’t even really understand what was happening right now—but it seemed at the core of her being, she was someone who wanted to help. Her very soul, regardless of its experiences, wanted to save those around her. <em>The perfect Ladybug</em>.</p><p>She sighed for the umpteenth time that day. “The box is hidden away in your school’s library—Collège Françoise Dupont. It’s not too far from here.”</p><p>“Okay, so I’ll pack up tonight and we’ll head out in the morning. I can tell my parents I need fresh air or something.” Marinette began the tedious process of getting up, sharp pains from her ribcage periodically stopping her. Tikki watched anxiously as she got down the steps and rummaged around her room.</p><p>“It would actually be best if we left now.” She said suddenly, causing Marinette to look up at her as she nervously hung around the top of the steps. “Chat has been with them for three whole days—I can’t imagine what they’ve done to him. We may even already be too late.”</p><p>The young Parisian grimaced, then quickly turned and picked up a bag. She chucked her painkillers in—after taking two more pills, preparing for the screaming her ribs were about to do. Her water bottle followed. She looked around to see if there was anything useful in her room. As she wandered around her desk, her foot kicked something underneath it, bringing her to a stop. She peered under, only to be met with a first aid kit.</p><p>Tikki chuckled behind her. “Yes—you can be very clumsy. Your parents make a habit of restocking it while you’re at school.”</p><p>She flushed at that, then went over and put it in the bag as well. Her Kwami hovered over, peering in, then placed the earrings in an inner pocket. “There should be enough room left for the box, yes.”</p><p>The girl nodded and then slung the bag over her shoulder. She gave a cursory glance at her mirror as she approached the trap door leading out of the attic, then moved to open it. Now it was just a matter of sneaking past her parents and out onto the quickly darkening streets of Paris, France.</p><p>As the door slowly opened, Tikki darted into the bag resting on her back. Marinette peeked down, trying to see what was waiting for her.</p><p>The TV illuminated the room, casting bright light on the sleeping parents on the couch in front of it. Tom took up most of the space with his bulk. His wife, Sabine, was tucked into his side, cradled by him even as they were both unconscious. Dinner—a stew—rested in the kitchen, probably just waiting on Marinette to say she was hungry. She immediately felt guilt—they were really not going to like what she was about to do.</p><p>She slowly crept down the stairs, each step lightly taken to ensure there would be no creaking. The trap door was gently shut behind her, not a sound drifting through the house but the local news and her parents’ soft snores. Careful footsteps took her past them and out the door, then down the stairs until she was at the bakery. She halted there, eyeing some sweets in the back. Impulsively, she grabbed a few cookies and macarons and stuffed them in her bag. Then she was out the door, followed only by the chime of the bells connected to it.</p><p>The sky purpled as the sun fully set beyond the horizon—but even as it grew ever darker, her surroundings were still bright. Lights emanated from each building, lampposts flickered on, and people by the dozens were walking around. At least this walk wouldn’t be too daunting—she could hardly be attacked by a villain in populated areas, right?</p><p>Beginning to walk, she was quickly stopped by her bag shifting without her touching it. Tikki rustled within it, until she confusedly piped up. “Do you not have your phone? You’re going in the wrong direction.”</p><p>Marinette huffed and then turned around, walking the opposite way. “No, I guess my phone was lost in the fight. You’re going to have to guide me.”</p><p>Tikki phased through the bag, settling tucked inside the girl’s jacket. They quickly set off into the night, the Kwami poking her head out occasionally. Collège Françoise Dupont loomed ahead of them in the distance, ominous.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Feel free to point out any typos or stuff like that.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Mayura</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Marinette gets into the school, only to see one of the very people who caused her to lose her memories.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Little shorter than the last chapter--contains just a taste of action. There WILL be a full on action scene in a couple chapters, don't worry.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Light, wispy clouds warped themselves around the bright spot that was the moon, casting shadows far beneath them. Pink flats evaded each shadow, darting close to the light. The ribbons on the shoes wavered slightly as a soft breeze wound around the wearer. Marinette clutched her jacket closer in response.</p><p>As they had drawn closer to the school, the number of people around them dwindled considerably. It was now just the battered girl steadily making her way under the lampposts that dotted the streets. A light flickered as she passed under it, making her flinch and hesitate.</p><p>Tikki noticed as she stalled, and poked her head out to peer up. “Are you okay, Marinette?”</p><p>“Yeah—<em>yes</em>. I’m fine.” She gave an awkward smile, then raised her face towards the darkened, empty school. “I guess I’m just nervous. Sorry.”</p><p>“It’s okay—you were like that before too.” A tiny smile on her face, she turned to look back at the street they were walking along. “But now we can’t afford that.”</p><p>Marinette crossed the road, finally stepping onto the same concrete as the school grounds. In her jacket, Tikki spoke again. “What do you say to use your special power?”</p><p>“Lucky charm.”</p><p>Her shoes create light taps against the stone steps, slowly making her way to the large wooden doors. Through the foggy glass panes, she could see the faint outline of what laid beyond it. It was not enough to comfort her.</p><p>“What does it do?”</p><p>Marinette worried her lip, then spoke lowly. “It summons an object I can use to defeat a villain—usually not in a straightforward way. I can use it afterwards to clean everything up.” Bandaged fingers tapped against the handle, wary.</p><p>She slowly opened the door, the quiet creak echoing into the open area beyond it. It clicked shut behind her, leaving her cast in shadows—luckily the moon shone bright enough to see through the ceiling-less area. Peering around, she tried to get a feel for the school.</p><p>The wide, open space was largely empty at the moment. It was easy for Marinette to imagine people hanging out on the benches or playing games here, though. Basketball hoops hung from the second floor, and white lines crisscrossed the ground—perhaps they held their physical electives here. None of that mattered though, she just needed to find the library.</p><p>Marinette kneeled on the ground for a moment, shucking off her bag to fish around in it. Finally finding the elusive inner pocket, her hand came back out holding a pair of dotted earrings. She brushed a thumb over them. They were a bright shade of red, matching the Kwami that was now outside of her jacket and looking down at the earrings as well.</p><p>Tikki gazed at them, then shifted her eyes to look at Marinette. The girl only sat still for a few seconds longer before she carefully put the earrings on. The red shimmered, then faded to black.</p><p>Moving on, Tikki spoke up as Marinette zipped up her bag and stood. “We can really take any of these stairs—we just need to get to the third floor. That’s where the library is.”</p><p>Her ward nodded and walked over to the closest staircase. Slowly drudging up each step, her hand gripped the green, metal railing. With the painkillers, her achy ribs offered only an echo of pain, but it was still there—persistent. It would have to be ignored.</p><p>As she made her way onto the second floor and turned to go up the stairs yet again to get to the third, she was interrupted by a loud <strong><em>thunk</em></strong>. It echoed down to her, though it was clearly muted. She tensed, a hand on the railing, just watching up above her. The sound repeated, again and again. She wasn’t alone here—someone was in the library.</p><p>From her side, fluttering about, Tikki quickly spoke. “Marinette, you need to transform.” The young girl nodded, dropping her bag down.</p><p>As quietly as she could say it: “<em>Tikki, Spots On!</em>” Red light flashed through the dark school, and the transformation flowed over her figure. Her suit clung tightly to her, bright red with black spots covering nearly every inch of skin. Curious, she gave a firm tug to her mask—it didn’t budge. The noises started up again, drawing her attention back up to the library above her.</p><p>She quietly crept up the stairs—noting that now that she had the suit on, her pain had disappeared. The painkillers aided it, obviously, but…how hard had Hawkmoth beaten her, then? Was he beyond that door, tearing the room apart? She had no experience—how was she supposed to beat him?</p><p>The banging continued, a particularly loud slam ringing in her ears and bringing her back to reality. <em>No</em>, she had to remember what Tikki had told her on the walk over—once you had the suit on, everything was instinctual. Very few of the heroes today had prior fighting experience. They just acted, guided by the hands of every user before them. Blessed with increased strength and speed from the Kwamis that bonded with them.</p><p>Marinette reached for the yo-yo at her side, slipping a finger through the loop and gripping the rest tightly. Her other hand held the railing. She climbed forward, progressing to the third floor. Thick, dark wooden doors greeted her at the top. What little glass was available was fogged, and only provided a distorted view of book cases. Whoever is in there must be further in.</p><p>Gritting her teeth, spandex-covered fingertips pushed the door open slowly. She nearly sighed in relief when opening it didn’t let out a loud creak. Just as gently, she shut it behind her, fully facing the book cases. The musty, pleasant scent of aging books and a hint of old coffee filled her nose. Again, the thumping and banging rang out—this time much closer.</p><p>Creeping forth, she peered around the bookcase blocking the view—and stopped. A woman, cloaked in deep, dark blues prowled around the room, occasionally shoving things around, clearly frustrated. As she tore books out of their places, sheets of paper flying out of them, Marinette realized the <em>entire woman was blue</em>. Her skin, her clothes, her hair—probably even her eyes. Just shades of dark blue with hints of purple. Her dress faded into feathers, vaguely mimicking the feathers clutched in her hand—peacock feathers. This was <em>Mayura</em>, the woman who worked at the side of Hawkmoth. She had <em>been there</em> the day Marinette lost her memory; she had <em>helped</em> him.</p><p>Anger warmed the girl’s chest, and before she could even think to form a plan, she was moving. She quickly jumped out from behind the bookcase, sending out her yo-yo. It wound its way around a stunned Mayura’s foot, yanking her forward and flat on her face. Her fan skidded out, quickly being secured by Marinette. The older woman picked herself up, eyes wide.</p><p>“You were supposed to have lost your memory!” She shouted, face morphing into an ugly visage of anger, hatred. Her hands clamped into fists, nails digging into skin—weaponless and enraged.</p><p>“I did.” Marinette returned, far calmer. She reeled the yo-yo back in, readying it for another go. Her vision became grey, Mayura a flashing beacon of red and black. “I imagine those memories made me a much nicer person who wouldn’t do what I’m about to.”</p><p>Before Mayura could so much as twitch to move, Ladybug shot out her yo-yo. The wires swirled around the blue figure, then tightened until she gasped. Just as quickly, Marinette yanked her forward as her other hand raised, fist clenched. Mayura lurched towards her, panic in her eyes, then—</p><p>____________________________________________</p><p>The woman woke up, coughing violently. Ropes dug harshly into her ribs, disrupting her breathing. Her wrists fared no better, hands losing circulation and completely unable to move to untie her. Then again, untying herself wasn’t the best idea.</p><p>Somehow suspended forty feet above the entrance to the Paris Police Prefecture was one Nathalie Sancoeur. Her hair was unruly and matted from the rain, suit wrinkled and soaked. She let out a soft whimper as her glasses slid right off, careening down below until the lens shattered—right at the foot of a police officer. The pale, portly ginger man peered up at her, a piece of paper in his hands.</p><p>
  
</p><p>Police officers poured out of the building, intent on lowering Gabriel Agreste’s secretary. Several took to the roof to grab the rope, eventually able to lower her down with the excess line available. As one man took out her gag, another cuffed her. Nathalie quickly began expelling excuses and lies, but her words fell on deaf ears.</p><p>Standing tall on a rooftop on the other side of the street, Ladybug watched on. A sleek, black box rested on her hip. The peacock Miraculous had been returned to its rightful place.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Let me know if there are typos!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The A Team</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ladybug gathers up a small, elite team to take to what is hopefully the final fight.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Pumped this out a little faster than usual--I feel like its a little rough? I don't know, tell me your thoughts on it.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Agreste mansion was a fortress in every sense of the word. High stone walls surrounded the property, topped with tall, pointed metal bars. Cameras lined the corners where each wall met, following anyone who walked by. The gate was no more welcoming—two large, cast iron doors, allowing you to see in but never cross over. The cameras there were even more vigilant.</p><p>Rumors surrounded the interior of the home—vast wealth, upper-class secrets, and so on. Only a privileged few had seen inside of it, with the exception of a party once thrown within its walls. Overall, the home and its overwhelming security measures had been romanticized.</p><p>Marinette, however, saw it for the prison it was. Somewhere in there was Hawkmoth and, more importantly, Chat Noir—who no one had heard from in <em>days</em>. She watched the impregnable keep from the sheltered rooftop of a café, having had walked in as a civilian and sneaking her way up before transforming. The copious, overgrown plants provided plenty of cover—enough for her friends as well.</p><p>The illusionist fox hero, Rena Rouge.</p><p>________________________________________</p><p>
  <em>Marinette alighted lightly on the roof of an apartment complex, having had inserted an address into her yo-yo at the behest of Tikki. This would be her first stop of the night. She scaled down until she hit the window fourth from the top, and peered in.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Alya Césaire sat on her bed, head in her hands, and phone flashing next to her with messages from classmates. Marinette didn’t need to look further to know what was happening—her parents had likely woken up to check on her, only to find her gone. Guilt settled heavy in her stomach, but she moved forward, crawling through the window.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The opening of it startled Alya, making her shoot up to see Ladybug in her room. She sat in silence as the hero opened her yo-yo, pulling the boxed fox Miraculous out of its storage compartment.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Alya, right?” She said, tossing her the jewelry box. Alya scrambled to catch it, thoroughly confused. “I need your help.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Woah—I mean…is this safe? Hawkmoth knows our identities.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Yes, and we know his.” Ladybug flashed a crooked grin, already turning to leave and see the next person she needed to talk to. Alya stopped her.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Wait!" She cried out. “My friend, she’s missing—can we go look for her?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Looking out the window, Marinette’s fingers tapped the frame. “After the fight, yes. You need to rest tonight.” She began to crawl out, only looking back briefly to reassure the girl. “I promise you your friend is safe.”</em>
</p><p>________________________________________</p><p>The protective turtle hero, Carapace.</p><p>________________________________________</p><p>
  <em>Marinette leveraged herself into Nino's room—only to realize he wasn’t in there. The space was clearly his, turntables and records lined the walls, and a pair of headphones were on his nightstand. Tikki had implied he was incredibly into music, so this had to be it.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>A <strong>thunk</strong> from another part of the home snapped her out of it. If Nino wasn’t in here, he must be out there. Hopefully his parents and any siblings were asleep as well. With that in mind, the young girl exited his room.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Peering around the hallway, Marinette breathed a sigh of relief—none of the rooms had light shining under their doors. She was able to slowly creep towards the living room, stilling at the occasional squeak from the boards underfoot. Eventually she exited into a much wider space—then stopped.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>From the den she had a clear view of the kitchen, where Nino sat at the small island. His arms pillowed his chin on the cool granite, eyes staring into his phone. Clear worry was on his face. She was really putting her friends through their paces tonight, wasn’t she?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She approached him, surprised when he didn’t snap to attention by the time she was right in front of him. Thoroughly amused, she began talking.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I understand Rena is your girlfriend?”</em>
</p><p><em>Nino fell backwards, shocked. “What the—” </em> <strong>crash</strong><em>. He was only on the ground for a split second before he got back up, scrambling to find something to protect himself.</em></p><p>
  <em>Ladybug smiled. “Nino Lahiffe,” she spoke, catching his attention fully this time, making him stop moving. “I need your help.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He sputtered, cheeks flushing, only just now registering that she had teased him earlier. Dark circles ran deep under his eyes. The boy must’ve been very tired. “Woah—how did you get here?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>She gave a tight smile, ignoring the fresh guilt—she had to power through this—and fished the turtle Miraculous from her yo-yo. “Unimportant, loverboy—Carapace is needed.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He gingerly accepted it; eyes still bleary. Worried, she rested a hand on his shoulder. “You should go to bed, Nino. You need to rest. Your Kwami will tell you everything you need to know.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Marinette ended up gently guiding him back into his room, even going as far as tucking him in. She stood there a moment longer, ensuring he actually committed to resting. When he finally began snoring, she left through the window.</em>
</p><p>________________________________________</p><p>Finally, the stunning bee hero, Queen Bee</p><p>________________________________________</p><p>
  <em>“Chloé Bourgeois, yes?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Said girl whipped around to look at who spoke—only to come face to face with Ladybug herself. She quickly scoffed, face twisting with obvious disgust. Her arms came up to cross her chest, and she raised an unimpressed eyebrow.</em>
</p><p><em>“What do </em>you<em> want, Ladybug?” Tone purely just contempt, the blonde was clearly not happy to see the heroine. </em></p><p>
  <em>Marinette gave a thin smile, patience already wearing down from the few words they exchanged. “I need help from Queen Bee—I understand we didn’t leave things on a good note.”</em>
</p><p><em>Chloé immediately rolled her eyes. “Oh, that’s </em>rich<em>.” Her arms fell down from her chest, one hand perching on a hip while the other gestured about. “We obviously didn’t. I never thought I’d see you again, in fact. Not like this.”</em></p><p>
  <em>“Well, you’re needed. For good things this time, I hope.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The blonde’s eyes narrowed; disbelief obvious. “Really? Just like that?”</em>
</p><p><em>“Yes and no.” Ladybug picked up her yo-yo, slowly pulling the small box out of it as Chloé stared on. “Chloé, I know you’re capable of good things.” The box now in full view, she stepped forward—walking </em>past<em> the girl. She settled in a chair and gestured for Chloé to sit across from her. Begrudgingly, she followed the heroine. </em></p><p><em>“From what I’ve been told, you’re another screwed over kid.” She began, voice kind, understanding—</em>tired<em>. “You want to prove you’re unique and good enough, just like the rest of us. I’m sorry if I made you feel like you weren’t—” she looked up at the still scowling girl “—but I’m just a kid too.”</em></p><p>
  <em>Chloé looked shocked at the admission for a moment, eyebrows lifting ever so slightly. Ladybug continued. “We all make mistakes. This is your chance to right your wrongs.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She set the box on the small table between them, then stood up. No words were exchanged as she approached the balcony. Behind her, the room flashed yellow.</em>
</p><p>________________________________________</p><p>Rena Rouge, and Queen bee—who looked quite uncomfortable—kneeled on either side of her, Carapace just behind them. All of the young heroes had their eyes set on the building, some of them paling at the sight. Carapace looked over at Rena, who’s lips thinned in response.</p><p>“Hawkmoth is Adrien’s <em>father?</em>” She asked, disbelief coloring her voice. Her hand loosely held her weapon, a flute, nearly dropping it in her shock.</p><p>Ladybug looked away from the building. “Who’s Adrien?”</p><p>A scoff from the blonde on the other side of her beat Rena to the punch. “You don’t know who Adrien Agreste is? Is that even possible?” Queen Bee was certainly a haughty one.</p><p>Carapace shifted behind them, clearly uncomfortable. Ladybug turned to face him, wanting him to speak. He gave a shy smile.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he started “but…why is she here?” Pointing a finger at her, he continued. “Isn’t she with the bad guys?”</p><p>The bee themed hero crossed her arms, only being stopped from hissing out a retort by a gentle hand from Ladybug. She rolled her eyes, letting the other bug hero speak in her place.</p><p>“We’re all here for the same reason, Carapace. That’s all that matters."</p><p>She stood up, safe behind the towering bushes, and faced the young heroes. Each one had apparently worked with her before, and—according to Tikki—had the most experience with their respective Miraculous. She had been reassured that together they would make a small, elite team—and after a quick run-down on their powers she had a rough plan to go about everything.</p><p>Right now, it seemed the biggest problem was their interpersonal relationships.</p><p>Alya Césaire, AKA Rena Rouge. Apparently best friends with Marinette, and currently couldn’t focus because as far as she knew, Marinette had left in the middle of the night and was now missing. She was also dating Carapace, and Marinette could easily see favoritism for the boy while fighting.</p><p>Speaking of him—Nino Lahiffe. An easygoing boy with a laidback personality. Eager to prove himself, but blind to the dangers that were included. It was clear that he wasn’t fully prepared for what could be their final fight, because losing was very much on the table. His blatant distrust of Queen Bee would also be a barrier.</p><p>For good reason, unfortunately. In the short time she had been without her memories, she still understood why people didn’t like the girl. Chloé Bourgeois left a lot to be desired personality-wise—likely as a result of the extreme wealth her family had collected, and the uncaring figure that was her mother. This left a young, unhappy girl who—no matter how hard she tried—felt she could never prove herself to be even <strong>adequate</strong>. So, she would insist she was more than adequate, all the time, to everyone, in the easiest way possible: <em>putting everyone else down</em>. Her attitude had obviously gotten her in hot water with the other heroes, and she had even helped Hawkmoth in her rage at one point.</p><p>They all seemed to know each other’s identities, and that would leave plenty of room for conflict. Marinette had no time to sit with them and offer counseling—she would simply have to plan around it. The three heroes stared up at her, waiting for her to speak.</p><p>She cleared her throat. “I should start by telling you all our current circumstances. You can tell, but Chat Noir isn’t with us today.” She jutted her head towards the house behind her. “That’s because he’s in there.”</p><p>Their eyes collectively widened, Rena already opening her mouth to shoot off a dozen questions. Ladybug held up her hand, wanting to finish. “A few days ago Hawkmoth and Mayura attacked us out of nowhere—to protect our Miraculous, I gave away my title of guardian. I assume I lost consciousness shortly after that.” Marinette turned her head away, uncomfortable with staring at them head-on for the next part. “I woke up in the hospital, completely blank—and Chat Noir visited me, telling me what he was about to do.”</p><p>She looked back at them. “I haven’t heard from him since.”</p><p>The roof was silent for a minute—only the sound of leaves shifting in the breeze and the buzzing of bugs around them. Carapace looked between the girls, at a loss for words. Alya, the reporter of the group, <em>wasn’t</em>.</p><p>“You mean you don’t remember <em>anything?</em> You technically now have zero experience as Ladybug and you still want to go in?” She waved towards the house, panicking. “Hawkmoth probably has the cat Miraculous—we don’t even have all the current Miraculous users with us right now!”</p><p>Marinette held up her hand yet again, receiving an irritated look in return, though Alya did quiet down. “I’m still Ladybug, Rena Rouge. Last night I took down Mayura on my own—these powers are instinctual, you know this.” Alya nodded, looking away at the scolding tone.</p><p>“Wow—you really got Mayura? Does that mean…?” Nino trailed off, leaning forward a bit.</p><p>“Yes, the peacock Miraculous has been returned to its rightful place.” She patted the tiny black box near her, containing only the peacock brooch. Chloé eyed it subtly. Ladybug waited until the bee heroine’s eyes met her own before she continued.</p><p>“This is the A team—we’re small in numbers, but we also have the most experience with our respective Miraculous.” Her eyes traveled between each hero, watching them stiffen up. “The users that are missing are the B team. If we fail, one of the Miraculous I left out will seek its user, then use them to gather the others as a final assault.”</p><p>The young Parisians kneeling before her shifted, looking at each other. Marinette spoke up again, reassuring them. “That’s only for the worst-case scenario. I intend for this to be the final fight.”</p><p>Their eyes collectively settled on the mansion in the distance. With the weight of their mission, the stone walls seemed to grow taller. Marinette straightened up, promising to herself that this task would be successful.</p><p>“Here’s the plan.”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please let me know if there are any typos.</p><p>EDIT: We hit 1,000+ hits! Thank you!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. The Beginning of the End</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>They make it into the mansion.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hope this turned out well! This is truly the beginning of the end--just two chapters left.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Queen Bee alighted on the ground, just a few feet away from the towering iron gates. She hesitated for a moment, hand clenching around a small concealed object, then walked forward. Not even one full step and the camera shot out of its hiding spot, staring her down. The watchful eye of the home tracked her all the way to the gate where she stopped.</p><p>The lens adjusted, shuttering and emitting a low humming sound. Chloé didn’t bother speaking—it wouldn’t help. After a minute, the gates opened on their own. The camera receded slowly as she stepped into the wide, empty space.</p><p>Once she crossed that invisible line that divided the Agreste mansion from Paris, everything quieted down. The cars just behind her muted, their engines no longer rumbling. People walking past, talking, listening to music—they no longer existed. It was just her in this cold, pale, silent space.</p><p>Yet she could feel <em>eyes</em> staring at her.</p><p>Ignoring the crawling feeling on her skin, Chloé approached the tall, solid oak doors. Bits of metal decorated it, framing it at the bottom. She would bet the door had been reinforced with steel—a fortress through and through. When she was young, she thought Gabriel was protecting his family—his <em>dwindling</em> family. Now she knew better.</p><p>She also knew that Gabriel Agreste wasn’t someone to open doors for others, so she reached out on her own. Black and yellow fingers lingered on the smooth handles for only a moment. The hinges didn’t let out so much as a squeak, perfectly polished.</p><p>The front entrance was largely as she remembered—flawless marble flooring, burnished to a glittering shine. Perfect symmetrical designs, all in shades of black and white. The staircase drew the eyes to the owners of the mansion: the Agrestes, with Gabriel presiding over them all. Unfortunately, only the top of Gabriel’s head could be seen, as there was a certain someone blocking the way.</p><p>The Gorilla stood stock still, form rigid and intensely focused on the intruder. In his akumatized form he was truly massive—his animalistic tendencies making him an intimidating foe. He huffed and snorted, chest heaving. Bloodshot yellow eyes didn’t so much as <em>blink</em>. How long had this bodyguard been akumatized?</p><p>The beast slammed his fist into the ground, cracking the smooth stone. Queen Bee swayed from the impact, arms reaching out to try to steady herself. With a final snort from the great monster, Hawkmoth’s trademark symbol appeared on his face.</p><p>His mouth opened to speak. A voice not belonging to himself echoed out into the vacant halls. “What are you doing here, Queen Bee?” The deep, smooth baritone of Hawkmoth filled her ears.</p><p>“Here to see you, Hawkmoth. The <em>real</em> you. Word travels fast.” She finally unclenched her fist, revealing the peacock Miraculous within it. Pinching it between her thumb and pointer finger, she held it up high. “Mayura was captured and detained by the police. She wanted it returned here.”</p><p>The Gorilla gave its first real reaction—surprise. Its eyes widened, shifting backwards just slightly. Hawkmoth quickly regained control, the ape calming and staring at the girl. After a minute of thought, he spoke through it again. “Fine. Go into the room on the left.” The beast gestured robotically towards the dark double doors. “Stand in front of the painting in the back. We’ll see each other soon.”</p><p>His insignia faded away instantly, leaving the Gorilla on its own. It blinked owlishly for a second, dazed. She ignored it and turned away—he wasn’t important right now.</p><p>These doors weren’t mechanized either, leaving her to push them open. They glided across the floor, effortless—truly every aspect of the Agreste home had been fine tuned. Not an inch left unchecked each day. Nothing was allowed to be anything less than perfect—those same standards applied to the people within its walls as well. Adrien had to be the pinnacle of male beauty, incredibly intelligent, and most of all, <strong><em>obedient</em></strong>.</p><p>He must have failed in one of those aspects, because the room Chloé walked into was trashed. Every object that was even marginally related to Adrien had been stripped from the walls, thrown across the room, even <em>shredded</em>. Picture frames were shattered, leaving bits and pieces of glass strewn across the floor. As she walked forward, trying to maneuver around the wreckage, she stepped on a small, child-like drawing. Or more so, the remains of it—it was mostly ashes. <em>What happened here? Where was Adrien?</em></p><p>She tried to ignore it even as unease curled heavy in her gut—her instincts screaming at her that something was wrong, <em>very wrong</em>. The only untouched portion of the room was the very painting she had been instructed to go towards. The portrait of Emilie Agreste, in the styling of Gustav Klimt. Chloé situated herself right in front of it, then waited.</p><p>With a jolt, she sank down. Panic quickly flowed through her before she realized this was supposed to be happening. The tube she was in was dark, and she swayed about each time she had to move in a different direction, but eventually it started climbing up. Finally, she rose up into a dark, dome-shaped room. <em>An observatory?</em> She couldn’t recall that ever being in the house when they were children.</p><p>In the low light that filtered through the sole window in the space, she could make out the shape of Hawkmoth. He stood in the center, still and silent. As her eyes adjusted to the room, she could make out the tenseness of his figure, but nothing more. He refused to speak even as she walked forward. Drifting over to his side, her eyes finally pierced into the dark shadows the light couldn’t reach.</p><p>Crumpled in the ill-lit, nearly black area of the room was—<em>someone</em>. It was hard to discern any notable features; they were turned away. Chloé could only barely make out shallow breathing from the poor figure. Beyond that, they didn’t move—just curled into the fetal position.</p><p>She stood next to the older, masked man—well aware the disguises were redundant between the two of them—and spoke. “Is that—”</p><p>“Chat Noir, yes.” He interrupted her. A short pause later and he decided to deign her with a few more muttered words. “My greatest disappointment.” Queen Bee frowned, confused.</p><p>Before she could ask him to clarify, he continued on. “Tell me, Queen Bee, what do you know of betrayal?”</p><p>“It happens usually by those we hold on a pedestal, in my experience.” She stared up at him, peeling her eyes away from the familiar boy. “That means we have nothing to fear from each other.”</p><p>Gabriel huffed out a single laugh, evidently amused. “I wasn’t talking about you, bee. No, I know the kind of person you are.” Finally, for the first time today, he looked at her. “Too selfish and insecure to be a <em>hero</em>—however, those are the perfect traits of a villain.”</p><p>His eyes left her, taking off their insurmountable weight, and instead fell on the boy crumpled in the back. Hawkmoth slowly began to walk over, gesturing for Queen Bee to follow when she hesitated. They approached him, watching as his beaten body gave one twitch. With his back turned to them, Chloé couldn’t make out his face—but his clothes were familiar. High end, quality fabric—Gabriel Agreste brand sneakers. A chill ran through her veins. <em>It couldn’t be</em>.</p><p>Gabriel stood there for only a moment longer before he clicked his tongue and placed his foot on the boy. Pushing at an angle, he rolled over the kid—because that’s all he was, a <em>kid</em>. The bruised, beaten face of Adrien looked up at her. Blood still dripped from his broken nose and busted lip. The ground beneath him had streaks of it—some of it dried, some of it fresh.</p><p>Adrien’s clothes had been torn in places, one long slash on his chest seeming to be the only one that truly hit the target and drew blood. He covered it weakly with one clamped hand. Fogged, feverish eyes blearily gazed up at her. The one free hand shakily reached out towards her, stopped by Gabriel’s shoe. He shut his eyes tightly and whimpered.</p><p>Chloé stood there, a hand over her mouth, shocked. Adrien and her had been childhood friends—in their darkest hours they had confided in each other. When her mother first left for those long excruciating years, he had been there. When Adrien’s mother had disappeared into thin air, she had been there for him. They used to hide together under the sheets during sleepovers, scared of the monsters in the night but safe in the knowledge that they were <em>together</em>. And now here he was, battered and lying alone in this cold, dark room—his very assailant tormenting him for <em>days</em>.</p><p>Hawkmoth looked at her once more, unconcerned about Adrien. “I’m aware of the fondness you feel for my son.” He stepped towards the girl, looming over her ominously. “But—his partner is someone you despise more than you love him.” Gabriel leaned in, his lips nearly brushing her ear. Chloé flinched, disgust shooting through her as a hot puff of air hit her.</p><p>“Marinette Dupain-Cheng is Ladybug.”</p><p>Queen Bee froze, looking out at the wall, eyes unseeing. Her mouth hung open in disbelief. The older man near her gave a wicked grin. Teeth flashing in the dim room, he delighted in this—a clear win. With the loss of Mayura, he could gain Queen Bee, someone so easy to manipulate. Chloé could also offer longevity—she could see out this mission for years, with minimal damage from her Miraculous. In the inevitable future of a new Hawkmoth, she could take his place and still do his bidding.</p><p>Chloé interrupted him from these thoughts by moving away from him. She stopped a few feet away, pulling the peacock Miraculous back out from being tucked up against her. The elegance of the brooch offered no comfort. In its viridian reflection, her own scared eyes stared back at her. She closed her fist and looked back up at the man.</p><p>“Marinette…” She hesitated, then breathed deeply. “Marinette is just like me, a <em>child</em>. A child you’ve messed up and toyed with because you can’t leave the past in the past.” Spitting out the last part, she quickly pinned the brooch to her front, then reached for her weapon.</p><p>Gabriel was ahead of her, running at her with his cane swinging in a wide arc. She tapped into the raw strength her Kwami provided, jumping high in the air. He skidded to a stop where she had been, and jumped up to follow her. Mid-air, Queen Bee whipped out her spinning top, letting it take her to the other side of the dome where she slid, bracing herself on the wall. Hawkmoth bared his teeth—nearly feral in his rage—and pursued.</p><p>He leaped high and wide, aiming to scale across the room—but as he passed the window, it shattered. The forms of Ladybug, Rena Rouge, and Carapace crashed through it, slamming into him as well. He flew across the room, momentum completely thrown off, and banged into the cool metal. With a groan, he rolled onto his front, using his cane to pick himself back up.</p><p>The light framed the young heroes, shards of glass fracturing the beams and illuminating them further. He scowled as Chloé joined them.</p><p>“What took you so long?” The blonde snootily asked, though her tone held mirth. She unclipped the peacock brooch and tossed it to Ladybug, who opened her yo-yo and slipped the jewelry inside.</p><p>Marinette gave a crooked grin back, spinning her weapon casually. “Sorry Queen Bee, we needed a moment to shut off all the power here—he has a ton of backup generators.”</p><p>Gabriel felt the blood drain from his face. He frantically popped open his cane, pressing a button within. <strong><em>Nothing happened</em></strong>. The numerous security measures that protected this room from intruders—the guns, the traps, the missiles—they were defused, <em>dead</em>. His crazed, bloodshot eyes met Ladybug’s, hatred boiling his blood.</p><p>“No matter.” He spat out, clicking the cane’s top closed. “Taking your Miraculous away from you will be <em>child’s play</em>. In your current memory-less state you’re the weakest you’ve ever been.”</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>But it wouldn’t be child's play.</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>Shakily shifting his weight to one arm was <strong>Adrien</strong>, finally truly awake. His eyes had cleared up, showing focus despite the clear agony of each movement. He croaked out the few words he was capable of.</p><p>“My lady.” A mere whisper, but enough.</p><p>Marinette whipped her head to face him, surprise and concern flickering over her face. Before she could speak, he peeled away the hand that had been clutched against his chest—revealing the ring of the black cat, as well as his Kwami, Plagg, curled into him. As the Kwami opened its eyes, Adrien threw the ring as far as he could, watching it skid the final few feet it needed to until Ladybug snatched it up.</p><p>With wide eyes and a bloody ring in her hands, she stared at him. He gave a soft smile, tears beginning to stream down his face. Behind Marinette, Carapace and Rena watched on in shock.</p><p>Adrien’s eyes filled with emotion, and he spoke his final words. “I, Adrien Agreste, hereby relinquish the Miracle Box, and name Ladybug the new guardian.”</p><p>Adrien and Marinette both collapsed, their worlds going dark. Before she succumbed to the darkness, the screams of her companions echoed in the room.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>As usual, let me know if there are any typos and if you enjoyed this piece. </p><p>We're nearing the end of this work! I'd like you all to know that I take commissions! Check out my <a href="https://n1cole.carrd.co">website</a>!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. The End</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This is the end--and what happens was always going to happen, whether they knew it or not.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I apologize for the wait--I haven't been feeling well lately. I smashed a LOT of this out today, actually, when I was feeling better. I hope you all like it! It's longer than the other chapters, I believe.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Her head was spinning, face scrunching up in pain. More than anything Marinette wanted to go back to sleep, but someone was shaking her fiercely—making more pain shoot up into her brain and down her spine. She groaned, clutching her head and slowly opening her eyes.</p><p>The room wavered in her vision—eyes too blurry and unfocused to really take it in. Unfortunately, whoever was shaking her couldn’t wait. They pushed her into a sitting position, murmuring rushed words into her ears to <em>wake up, please, we need you</em>. The blue haired girl tried again, this time turning her head to look at who was with her.</p><p>Rena Rouge’s concerned eyes filled up her view. With a hand on Ladybug’s shoulder, she kept the heroine steady. The fog gradually lifted from her brain as she sat there for a moment. Able to focus a little more, she could finally register the chaos around her.</p><p>Queen Bee and Carapace were handling Hawkmoth just barely. The grown man would overpower one, only be to accosted by the other. As Chloe whipped her spinning top at him, Nino guarded her, deflecting each swipe of his cane with the shield normally strapped to his back. They continued this as Marinette gathered herself, Rena at the ready to defend her if necessary.</p><p>When she finally felt well enough, she shakily stood up. The ring that sat slick in her palm nearly slid out—causing her to fumble with it. She pinched it in between her index finger and thumb, slowly registering what had made it so slippery. Blood.</p><p><em>Adrien’s</em> blood.</p><p><em>Oh god, <strong>Adrien</strong></em>. She whipped her head to look for the fallen boy, <em>her partner, her confidant</em>, ignoring the fading pain. Across the room, to the side of all the fighting, was the boy. Her chest tightened at the sight of him—still unconscious. No one could afford to tend to him right now, not with this fight.</p><p>She pursed her lips, looking down at the ring once more. With the guardianship transferred to her, her memories and experiences as Ladybug had also returned—this would theoretically be an easy fight now, despite Chat Noir being down and out. As she slipped the ring on, watching as it morphed into something slimmer, the intensity of the battle increased.</p><p>Hawkmoth had grown more accustomed to the hero’s attacks—anticipating the movement of Queen Bee’s spinning top and the way Nino would jump in to shield her. Watching them closely, he perfectly timed the swing of his cane to her shooting out her weapon. The top ricocheted, flying at high speed towards Chloé. Nino dived in to block it, but Gabriel used that moment to knock them both down. They rammed into the metal wall, groaning. The older man gave a feral, sharp-toothed grin, and walked over to them.</p><p>He wouldn’t get far—Marinette spun her yo-yo rapidly, letting it build momentum before she shot it towards Gabriel. The toy wrapped around him, surprising him, and yanked him back. With the sheer force she had put behind it, she was able to yank herself towards him as well—meeting him in the middle for a brutal punch, a crack emitting from the spot she hit him in. He hissed out and pulled himself off the ground as Marinette alighted safely a few feet away, standing between him and her recovering comrades.</p><p>Frustrated, Gabriel let out a snarl—and suddenly his glowing insignia floated over his face. The heroes stiffened, on edge.</p><p>“Gorilla, help me!” He roared, interrupted by the very floor they stood on quaking and then splitting open.</p><p>The Gorilla tore open the metal ground as if it were paper. Shockwaves from his initial impact made them all sway, struggling to stay on their feet and scaring the moths into scattering. They fluttered to the far reaches of the room, out the window, even squeezing past the akuma and down the hole. Rena Rouge wouldn’t get the chance to steady herself, as the Gorilla lashed out a mighty hand and gripped her tight. He pulled her down into the wrecked hole beneath them. Carapace didn’t even think—jumping down the hole to follow them. Marinette gritted her teeth, but she had been mentally prepared for something like this. Chloé and her would have to make do.</p><p>Queen Bee and Ladybug stood side by side, hands on their respective weapons and staring down Hawkmoth. The grown man collected himself on the opposite side of the hole. As the sounds of fighting and roaring echoed below them and ricocheted around the metal room, he simply brushed the dirt and dust off of his suit. The cane clicked onto the ground when he finished, assuming his casual, uncaring pose.</p><p>Marinette relaxed her jaw enough to speak—using the knowledge that came with her returned memories to speak to the man under the mask. “Gabriel—” she shouted “you need to stop this. Look what you’ve done to your family!” A red, spotted hand gestured to Adrien, blonde hair dirtied and body bruised. Unconscious. “To your reputation!”</p><p>High above them in the gloomy Parisian skies were news station and <strong>police</strong> helicopters. The shaking, roaring, and general destruction of property—especially in such a high-profile celebrity’s home—had drawn the attention of the public. Through the gaping hole in what had been a butterfly motif window, they could see it all. And with Marinette’s shouts—they could <strong>hear</strong> it all. The news was already out, with the national headline reading: <em>Gabriel Agreste is Hawkmoth—Will Ladybug Prevail?</em></p><p>Eyes wide, he stared at those hovering, flashing cameras livestreaming each and every moment. The barrels of guns returned his gaze, waiting for the moment Ladybug and her team fell—if that moment came to pass. None of this had been according to plan for Gabriel. He was supposed to have been able to easily pluck the ladybug Miraculous from Marinette’s ears—to wrench the cat Miraculous out of his son’s bleeding hands. It was supposed to be brutal and conflicting, but <em>easy</em>. There was no changing the fallout from this—not unless he wasted his wish on restoring his reputation. He would have to forfeit his wife. <em>His wife</em>.</p><p>With that in mind, he looked back at the heroines before him. Gabriel is a man possessed, <strong><em>obsessed</em></strong>—this wish surpassed everything else in his life. Even his own child. This ruthlessness was exemplified as he vaulted over the gaping chasm in the ground, pushing all of his weight into striking the girls. They both dodged, rolling in opposite directions and spinning their weapons to prepare to strike. Ladybug moved first, sending out her yo-yo to wrap around his cane. Hawkmoth yanked it back instead, pulling her forward and down on the ground. Before he could reach out for her jewelry, Chloé was on him—ramming into his side and out of the way.</p><p>He skidded across the floor, feet digging harshly into the ground to keep from toppling over. But he can’t fail here—he’s so close. The girl has both the Miraculous he needs in front of him, and even if she’s in her suit her previous injuries are still there. As Marinette hurls her yo-yo into the air shouting out “<em>Lucky Charm</em>” he rushes in yet again. The blood rushing through his ears overshadows the words he really should’ve focused on—the words Marinette had been covering. <em>Venom</em>.</p><p>The supercharged stinger digs into his ribs as his fingers reach out to yank the earrings off of Ladybug. He chokes out a breath, losing all of his momentum and slamming into the ground roughly. This time, he merely twitches in his awkward form rather than springing up to attack again. A groan pushes past his lips as he tries to move. From his spot on the ground he has a perfect view of Ladybug looking down at the object that was summoned, but it’s so small—he can’t see it. The thing that has the potential to ruin years of effort. The thought roils in his gut, making him twitch and slowly manage to open his mouth.</p><p>“I’ll—” he spits past his teeth, shocking the girls. “—I’ll never…stop.” He can’t move a single limb, and speaking against the venom in his system is agony, but pure hatred fuels him. “Even if they cage me. I’ll—I’ll get out…” he chokes off in a gasp, but continues. “I’ll continue this! There is no stopping it, <strong><em>Ladybug</em></strong>.” Spittle settles on the floor at his last word, a visual representation of the anger thrumming through his veins. Chloé steps back at that, a flash of fear in her expression.</p><p>Those spiteful words flow through Marinette, still looking down at her hands. Sitting there, though red with black spots, is an exact replica of the cat Miraculous on her finger. The battle beneath them still rages, every bang and shout echoing into the dome, filling the silence. She’s afraid to look up, to see how the ring could be used to save the day. The sinking feeling in her chest tells her <em>she knows</em>; she knows what is about to happen—but the <em>consequences</em>. It terrifies her.</p><p>She closes her eyes, turns her head up to face the room, then opens them to look around. Chloé clutches her spinning top close to her. Frustrated tears stream down her face. <em>She does not flash in her black and white vision. </em>Gabriel twitches on the ground, trying desperately to reach out and grab Ladybug. His teeth clench and grind, his blood vessels pump lava through him until he may burst. <em>He does not flash in her vision</em>. She spins around—the moths, the hole in the floor, the shattered window, the helicopters. <em>None of them flash</em>.</p><p>Adrien’s breath rattles in her ears—she looks down at her hands yet again. <em>They flash</em>. Ten fingers, two hands—her eyes trail further up—two arms, her chest, her <em>whole body</em>. She knows what she has to do. The knowledge that this was always going to happen doesn’t make it any easier.</p><p>“Chloé.” She spoke softly. The blonde broke out of her reverie, wide blue eyes staring up at her. “I need you to hold this for me, and stay with Adrien.” She placed the replica ring in yellow-black fingers, slowly closing them for her. “Please.”</p><p>Chloé hesitantly nodded, rushing over to Adrien’s side. What little first aid knowledge she had would have to do for now. She checked his pulse, grateful his heart still thudded even weakly, and put pressure on the wound on his chest. The most she could do without so much as bandages, though the poor boy would likely need stitches for this particular slash. She kept her eyes on him, not even noticing as Marinette steeled herself.</p><p>The blue-haired girl raised her hand in their direction—but she wasn’t looking at Adrien or Queen Bee. Instead, she looked at Plagg, whose own green eyes locked onto hers. The tired Kwami of destruction understood what was about to happen, and nodded.</p><p>Ladybug’s opposite hand rose as well, as if she were stretching herself to reach the far walls of the room. “Tikki, Plagg, unify!” Her shout echoed in the room, causing Hawkmoth and Chloé to snap to attention. They watched on in shock as Marinette did the unthinkable—summoning the forces required to achieve ultimate power. To become a <strong>god</strong>.</p><p>Plagg flew into the ring, still holding her eyes until the last moment. The split second his body was absorbed into the unyielding metal, the room quaked, cracks in the floor forming around her. Jagged scars spread out across the room. The few spots unblemished were instead warped, as if an intense heat had swept through—instead the air was <em>cold</em>. The aftershocks rattled the occupants to the bone, clinging to whatever they could—<em>if</em> they could. Marinette didn’t even notice them though.</p><p>Her eyes glowed a blinding white, actually casting light and piercing into the few remaining shadows in the observatory. Chloé draped herself over an awakening Adrien, shielding him. Hawkmoth could only close his eyes and wait. Both of them missed the way Ladybug began to float, heels leaving the ground until her toes barely brushed the floor. As she rose higher her suit began to change, and with it came the pain. The agony of limitless power—the price of even <em>dreaming</em> of making a wish. Her face contorted, veins straining with their own glow up her throat until they faded partway up her face. She could only clench her teeth and shut her eyes tight.</p><p>Her suit changed its hue, first—the rich crimson morphing to a royal purple. The dark spots on her body thinned, forming intricate lines that decorated her figure. As they stretched, they burned—molten lava across her skin, burning just as bright, until they cooled and faded to gold. Her hair fell from its pigtails, instead draping down her back and over her shoulders. Mysteriously, her yo-yo disappeared—the baton never making an appearance either. As the transformation completed, she fell back to the ground, seemingly defenseless.</p><p>Reopening her eyes, the room was once more bathed in white light. Her eyes had still not faded back to their signature blue, instead just two glowing orbs. The rays she cast were overwhelming, glaring brilliantly on whatever she looked at. The light drifted across the walls, finally settling on the still paralyzed Gabriel—making him flinch. A panicked noise escaped his strangled throat and his limbs strained against the venom, trying to back away.</p><p>She approached him, steadfast. Her very posture and pace were…inhuman. Smooth, precise, perfectly even steps. Her feet didn’t dip into the jagged cracks, rather floating over them or flattening anything in the way. It was as if the young girl in front of them was no longer really Marinette. As if by taking up the powers of a god she had truly become one, if only for a moment. Her chest did not rise and fall, her eyes did not blink. The only wild thing about her were the untamed locks of hair flowing around her; shifting like waves, floating like air.</p><p>For the first time in a long time, Gabriel felt real fear. Her gold-framed purple feet settled right at his face, and it was all he could do to strain his eyes and look up at her. For a few seconds, they stared at each other—tears gathering in his eyes from the intensity of the light. She slowly leaned down, grabbed his collar, and began to drag him over to his son. His face trailed roughly against the uneven ground until she let him go, angled to stare at his own consequences.</p><p>Adrien groggily cracked open his eyes, seeing only flashes of colors and rough shapes. His vision steadily began to clear with each blink. When he finally registered the state of the room, he gasped. The boy craned his neck as much as his battered body was able, eyes trailing over Queen Bee, the hole where Rena Rouge and Carapace now emerged—the boy clutching a container with a blackened butterfly in it—Hawkmoth lying on his side, and finally <em>Marinette</em>. His pupils dilated, cheeks flushing.</p><p>“W-Who are you?” He stuttered out, a small cough following his words. “Are…are you an angel?”</p><p>She gave a soft smile, hair falling to frame her face as she leaned over. Gentle fingers brushed through his locks and he leaned into the soft, comforting pressure. “Not quite. Rest, Adrien.” She settled on the ground fully. “It will be over soon.”</p><p>His eyes fluttered shut at the reassurance—his body, even in its blank state, trusting her wholly. Her hand drifted from his golden locks to cup his face, tracing his delicate, roughed up cheeks. The opposite hand was less kind; roughly grabbing the top of Gabriel’s head. His skull threatened to cave under the extreme pressure of her dainty fingers. In her palms were the remaining Agrestes—in her palms were the wish, and the price.</p><p>“Powers of Creation and Destruction, bend to my will.” Her voice boomed across the room, startling Alya and Nino behind her. Tiny orbs of light began to manifest in the air, casting faint light around them. They dotted everywhere in the dome, sparse. Marinette didn’t care, tightening her grip on Adrien ever-so-slightly, illuminating his face with her very gaze. “Restore Adrien’s memory in full.”</p><p>The lights immediately multiply and scatter—darting around the room and making it brighter, as if they were sitting amongst the very stars themselves. As the observatory filled up, the lights suddenly flew to Marinette, spiraling and spinning in a high, blinding vortex around her and the Agrestes. Chloé staggers back, pushed away by the sheer force of the winds generated by their speed.</p><p>They begin to speak, the bright orbs. “<em>The price?</em>” They whisper, echoing from light to light. “<strong><em>The price?</em></strong>” Over and over, unrelenting. Marinette looks up, hair whipping around her. In response, the vortex slows—the lights gather up, congealing into a solid form. A Kwami.</p><p>The Kwami is pure white—with two extraordinarily long antennae flowing far past its short legs. It radiates white, warm light. When it opens its eyes, she finally sees hints of the Kwamis she knows. One gleaming green eye and one glittering blue. Though it has no mouth, she can still hear it—<em>the price? What is the price? What will you sacrifice?</em></p><p>“Gabriel Agreste.”</p><p>The Kwami nods and disappears in an instant. Suddenly a final shake rocks the room, more violent than the rest. Marinette stands still through it, locked on to the men she holds. It stops abruptly, and the stiff Hawkmoth sags, eyes fluttering closed. His Miraculous flashes, and the suit fades away—revealing the man underneath, unconscious.</p><p>Having consumed too much power with her wish, Marinette’s earrings and ring begin to beep frantically. Her eyes fade to their normal blue—the suit beginning to disappear. She frantically looks to Rena, who quickly whips out her flute and shouts “<em>Mirage!</em>”, throwing her power up into the air.</p><p>A thick, dark fog coats the top of the room, completely obscuring the view the helicopters outside may have. It shields them not a moment too soon—Ladybug’s suit shimmers away, revealing the girl underneath to those who remain awake. Alya and Nino gasp behind her, but she doesn’t turn. On the ground in front of her lie Tikki and Plagg. They sleep, completely exhausted, but they’re safe—everyone is <em>safe</em>. <em>They did it</em>.</p><p>She looks to Adrien, who is staring at her. His eyes, which previously held unfamiliarity, were now soft. A gentle smile curled his lips, and he reached out to cup her face just as she did earlier. She holds it against her, smiling back.</p><p>“Marinette?” He whispers, and the waterworks start. Tears stream down her face, dripping onto the floor in a quiet pitter-patter. He lets out an <em>aw</em>, pulling her down so she can lean on him. They both wrap their arms around each other.</p><p>Around them, the room is in tatters. The fog hides the damage to the ceiling and window, but it doesn’t shield the walls and floor. They are quite literally standing and sitting in ground zero—even more destruction beneath their feet where Rena and Carapace fought the Gorilla. But they’re alive—all of them. They <strong>won</strong>.</p><p>Mayura—<em>Nathalie</em> is in prison, awaiting her trial which will surely be doomed after the police sweep the mansion. Gabriel Agreste is asleep on the floor, powerless and without his memories. He can’t hurt anyone anymore. In a week, he’ll wake up in the medical wing of La Santé Prison.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading--only one chapter left! The epilogue.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Epilogue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A moment between two young lovers, thinking back on the weeks since Hawkmoth had been defeated.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>With the positive feedback from the last chapter, I was SUPER hyped and typed the epilogue up really fast. I hope you enjoy the final chapter folks.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Marinette sits near the top of the Eiffel Tower—far, far above the city and its problems. The problems these days are so much easier, too. She can afford a night off. Crimes in Paris are now just that—crimes. No more akumatized victims, no more Mayura, no more Hawkmoth. As result, the city beneath her is calm. All she has to do tonight is <em>breathe</em>.</p><p>A warm, lean arm snakes around her waist and draws her closer to an equally warm body. She doesn’t have to look to know who it is—Adrien. He could always find her so easily, likely a perk of the cat Miraculous. The boy brushes his lips against the top of her head, feeling her soft hair. He presses a smile into her scalp, gentle kisses following it.</p><p>Marinette flushes and gives her own soft smile, turning to face him. He doesn’t let her go for a moment—snickering when she struggles to fully face him as a result. The noise stops in its tracks when she sneaks in a kiss. She can have her smug victory; he has the best prize in all of France in his arms. Subconsciously, he curls in around her ever-so-slightly. If he was in the suit his tail would be wagging one hundred miles an hour, but instead he grins into the kiss—unfortunately breaking it. That’s fine, though. Marinette just tucks her head under his chin, and then both sit there, <em>existing</em>.</p><p>Their Kwamis are safe. Tikki and Plagg have managed to make a full recovery and are currently playing in the cool night sky above them. They make wide arcs around each other—dizzying paths in the ultimate game of chase, unbothered by physics. A small blanket on the ground waits for them when they finish later, laden with stinky cheeses and sweet, sweet pastries.</p><p>Everyone is <em>happy</em>, too. For the first time in a long time, things are good. It’s been weeks since the final fight, where four young heroes entered the mansion not knowing if they would ever exit. Even the usual Paris crime had tampered down since Hawkmoth’s downfall. It’s as if the average criminals want the city to be calm too at least for now. Ladybug and Chat Noir still go on patrols and help where they can, but since akumas just aren’t a thing anymore, they’ve become more of a symbol of justice and protection than actual crimefighters.</p><p>In more good news, Adrien’s aunt Amelie and cousin Felix had come back to Paris to help him. Though Felix’s attitude was eternally icy and suspicious, he had shown genuine concern when faced with Adrien’s clear abuse. Aunt Amelie had dropped her bags and <em>sobbed</em> when she met up with him in the hospital—nearly begging for forgiveness for not having realized his circumstances sooner. There was of course no one to blame but Gabriel, but Amelie wouldn’t hear it. She vowed to stay and help him build a life here, especially since he refused to leave Paris. They bought a small, quaint home with just enough room for the three of them. Overall it had been a good experience for everyone—Amelie was able to provide, Felix began to open up to more people, and Adrien was <em>loved</em>. <em>Cherished</em>. <em>Adored</em>.</p><p>Gabriel and Nathalie were in prison where they would likely be for the rest of their lives. Even the family lawyer hadn’t picked up their case, and the city-assigned lawyer was reluctant to do much—how was he supposed to defend two clearly guilty super villains? Even with Gabriel’s insistence on not remembering a thing, him being unveiled as Hawkmoth on live television and the numerous documents in his home detailing designs for akumas and plans for attacks doomed him to an eternity of jail. The only lucky thing that came of this situation regarding the older man was that it seemed he had planned for something going wrong in the grand scheme of him being Hawkmoth. A legal document tucked away in a hidden vault within the mansion reveals that in the event that Gabriel died, went brain dead, or was jailed for life, all his money and assets would be bequeathed to Adrien. The boy would be fine for several lifetimes on that front.</p><p>Things weren’t perfect, of course. Adrien didn’t have his mother or father—though his mother’s body had been discovered in a tank beneath the mansion. She was technically still alive, but she had no active brain waves and for all intents and purposes was brain dead. Completely comatose. The doctors would tend to her for the rest of her days, but there was little hope she would ever wake up.</p><p>Adrien had also been grilled for days after the fight with Hawkmoth. The police and even <strong>federal officers</strong> visited him over and over, certain that he had to have known something about Gabriel’s illegal activities. He didn’t know anything. Nathalie’s tablet contained both Agrestes full schedules, and after it was reviewed by the police it was determined Adrien’s schedule had been designed specifically to keep him <em>away</em>. The knowledge that his father wanted him out of his hair settled heavy in his gut for days, and investigators left him alone after that.</p><p>With everything that had gone on, Adrien would likely never be a model again. The name Agreste was now synonymous with Hawkmoth. While no one gave him nasty looks over his father’s dealings, the pity was no better. Either way, no fashion magazine or general advertising company would be crazy enough to hire him again. But that was okay. Adrien had never truly enjoyed modeling. Now, he had more time to be what he was—a kid. A kid with an amazingly awesome girlfriend, too.</p><p>Far up on the chilly iron beams they cuddled up together. Adrien pulled a blanket over and wrapped it around them. Scant inches away from Marinette sat likely the most important jewelry box in all of France—maybe the world. They had met up today post-patrol under the pretenses of discussing the best place to hide the Miracle Box. While Marinette had stashed the box in her room when she was initially the guardian, now that she had multiple people knowing her identity, she needed a new spot for it. Alya and Nino were her good friends, but if they were placed under…<em>intense</em> <em>interrogations</em>, they could possibly reveal the location of the box. Chloé also couldn’t fully be trusted yet, even if she did come through for them during the final fight.</p><p>Marinette sighed into Adrien’s chest then leaned back. She gave a final kiss to the blonde’s hairline, enjoying the way he flushed pink under her attention. “Okay, okay, kitten. We really do need to talk about this box.”</p><p>He groaned, tightening his grip on her waist. The blue-haired girl reached past him and brought the spotted, smooth box into her lap. Adrien propped his chin on her shoulder, watching as she mindlessly popped open each slot to look at each Miraculous inside.</p><p>A low hum in his throat rumbled into her, then he spoke. “I’m glad we have all of the Miraculous back. Master Fu would be proud of you, bug.”</p><p>“Of us, kitty. <em>Us</em>.” She corrected him, hands still roaming over the box. She clicked on the peacock Miraculous slot, and it popped open. Beautiful viridian—elegance in every sense of the word. Back where it belonged.</p><p>She clicked it shut, then naturally drifted to the butterfly Miraculous. Subconsciously she pressed in to release the trigger and open it, already imagining the dark purple core, the petal-like wings of the pin. They had spent the formative years of their lives to get this Miraculous back in the box—to return the enslaved Nooroo to the protection only a guardian could provide.</p><p>Adrien’s nails digging into her shoulder suddenly broke her from those thoughts, and she quickly turned to look at him. His eyes were wide, still looking at the box. A look of horror marred his pretty features, mouth agape. Marinette spun back to look in the box, and—</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>The butterfly Miraculous isn’t there.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>As Marinette froze, Adrien took the box and frantically began to search through each slot. They were all there, every single one—except the butterfly Miraculous. “They’re all here, I don’t get it…” He mutters under his breath, heart pounding in anxiety.</p><p>Marinette broke from her frozen state and turned to him just as he put the box back down, defeated. With scared, wide eyes, she speaks. “Where is the butterfly?”</p><p>___________________________________________</p><p>On the other side of Paris, in a dark, dark room, a girl with a silver tongue and foxlike features grins. Venomous green eyes settle on her slim hands, where the pin of the butterfly rests.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for sticking with me through this fic. I hadn't intended for it to be multi-chaptered, but people liked it so much that I continued. Every positive comment, every kudos, every read--they all drove me to write more. I was extremely excited while writing the last two chapters if I'm being honest! You've all been very sweet to me, and I appreciate that so much as an aspiring writer. </p><p>For now, this piece has no planned sequel. I want a break from multi-chaptered stuff if I'm being honest (I have some BNHA and Miraculous one shots already in mind), and also I don't FULLY know where to go for a second part. It's pretty clear who the next Hawkmoth is for this fanfic, and I think I would have the sequel take place when they're adults to explore them working and stuff, but that's all I have right now. Likely one day I will figure it all out, and if you want to see that you should subscribe to me if you haven't--or follow me on Twitter. </p><p>Thanks again!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you like my work, consider following me on <a href="https://twitter.com/nicper00">Twitter</a> for general content, or <a href="https://eloc1n1cole.tumblr.com">Tumblr</a> for strictly writing and fandom content. If you want to support me, check out my <a href="https://n1cole.carrd.co">website</a>!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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